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"Seriously?" she said, surprised. "You're not going to argue?" Laia added, quickening her pace to walk beside her.

"Why? You can't stop me from going and I can't stop you from following me. This is a free country, at least for now."

For a moment, Laia's mind let itself enjoy the walk. She didn't know where they were headed, but she was walking next to Claudia, and she allowed herself a few seconds to fantasize that they were a couple—but whenever she glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and heard the loud, confident sound of her heels on the pavement, the fantasy faded, because for Laia there was no version of the world in which a woman like Claudia would ever look twice at a girl like her.

"It's here," Claudia announced, turning toward a door that looked like any ordinary apartment building entrance—except it clearly wasn't, because two suited security guards stood out front and looked Laia up and down.

They let Claudia through. She went inside and turned around with an amused smile that put Laia on alert.

"You can't come in—there's a dress code," one of them explained.

Laia's heart sank. She hadn't thought of that, and it was obvious that Claudia wasn't a woman who went just anywhere—or at least, dressed in just anything. She looked down at herself: lace-up sneakers, ripped jeans, and her puffer jacket that made her look like a neighborhood kid, and if she added the messy ponytail she'd been wearing all day at work, the result was obvious.

"Claudia, please don't go in. You can go out on Friday."

Claudia's smile curved wider, she turned around, and disappeared inside, leaving Laia no choice but to give up, go back to her car, drive home, and pray that Elvira's niece would make it to work on time. Her prayers did nothing. Claudia showed up half an hour late the next day, in a foul mood because her head was pounding. Laia didn't dare ask what time she'd gone to bed—if she'd gone to bed at all.

"I'm following you," she says, firm, and Claudia shrugs and closes the car door.

Laia runs to her own car, drives to Barcelona, and parks in a loading zone until a real spot opens up. She eats the sandwich she brought along with an apple juice, and when she's done, she climbs into the back seat because she has window shades on the rear windows, and that gives her the privacy she needs to change. Today she isn't going to be caught off guard like last time—she came prepared. She puts on a black dress she bought for her cousin's wedding, fitted on top with a flared skirt. She runs a brush through her hair to smooth it out and pulls it into a low, loose ponytail that manages to look elegant without trying too hard. She dabs on a little makeup, the long earrings from the wedding, and a pair of medium heels she taught herself to walk in without losing her balance.

Claudia leaves the building at ten fifteen and walks right past Laia—who has been waiting at the entrance for a while now—without recognizing her, but she's barely taken two steps when she stops dead and turns around, looking Laia over from head to toe with her mouth slightly open.

"Wow," she says, with a casualness that makes Laia's chest swell like a balloon. "You're—" Claudia looks at her again and blinks, smiling. "—really beautiful. I didn't recognize you."

Laia had braced herself for Claudia to tell her to leave, to stop wasting her time, all the things she usually says—but not for Claudia to look at her like that, or sound so genuinely sincere with the compliment.

"Thank you—it's because of the door, I mean… I'm not getting left outside tonight," she murmurs, her skin burning because Claudia won't stop looking at her.

"You definitely won't be. Shall we?"

Laia still can't quite believe how easily Claudia accepts having her walk beside her. She was very wrong when Elvira first described her—she'd built up an idea of how unbearable, cold, and spoiled she'd be that has nothing to do with the Claudia she actually knows: warm, kind, and charming, which makes it very hard for what Laia feels for her to die down.

They arrive at the same place as Tuesday, and even though only a couple of nights have passed, the two security guards—the same ones—don't recognize her, and when they step aside to let Claudia through, they let her through too.

"Both of us," she hears Claudia say when a girl behind a tall counter charges for admission.

"You don't have to, I didn't ask you to—" Laia starts, but the words stop coming when Claudia turns toward her and takes off her coat.

She's wearing light-colored slacks in a fabric Laia can't quite identify but that almost certainly costs more than she makes in a week, and a black silk shirt with buttons undone down to her chest, where the curves are perfectly visible. Laia's heart stops and drops straight to her center, where it begins to throb while her stomach twists with want.

"You didn't ask and I didn't ask your permission," Claudia says. "Leave your coat—it's warm inside and it'll get in the way."

Laia takes a few seconds to react before finally taking it off and handing it to the coat check girl. When she turns around she doesn't expect Claudia to be right there—but she is, looking at her again, a blatant once-over that Laia feels as if Claudia were doing it with her hands instead of her eyes. It's like something that drags itself down her sternum and ends up fluttering over her belly, loosening her knees, drying her mouth, and making her underwear wet with something very warm.

"Shall we?" Claudia asks without waiting for an answer—she just turns and heads toward the back.

They push through a set of double doors and the change is striking. Inside it's dark, warm, and the music plays low. Claudia goes straight to the bar and Laia doesn't know what to do with herself. She's supposed to be here to keep an eye on her, to try to keep her from drinking too much and get her home early—but now that she's actually here, she feels lost. This isn't her scene. Laia has never liked going out at night, and she only drinks occasionally when she meets up with a friend or goes to an event—like her cousin's wedding—where she turns into a social drinker.

Thinking about that, she realizes she's been following Claudia because Claudia has already reached the bar and just kissed the cheeks of a guy who could be her boyfriend. She doesn't have time to decide whether she likes him or to work up any pointless jealousy, because Elvira's niece has already turned toward her.

"Laia, this is my friend Pol. Pol, this is Laia—my aunt's and my parents' lackey."

Her tone is playful, almost teasing, but Laia doesn't like being seen that way—as a monitoring tool her family has planted on Claudia. A tool that isn't working, of course.

"Aah," Pol exclaims with a wide smile. "Well, it's wonderful to meet you, Laia."

The man leans in and gives her two kisses on the cheek that Laia returns, completely thrown off. Weren't Claudia's friends supposed to be like she expected Claudia herself to be? Arrogant, spoiled, and stupid. Three more adjectives she got completely wrong.